Fervent Hoping
by delia-baby
Summary: Basically a series of one-shots centered around Cordelia's childhood and my take on what it would be like to grow up with Fiona as a mother.
1. Magic Practice

"Concentrate, Delia. You're letting your mind wander," Fiona snapped.

The sound of her mother's voice blurred her focus making it impossible to concentrate as she demanded. Her skin felt as if it were crawling under the scrutiny of her mother's gaze.

"It's all about intention—making the object do as you wish."

Cordelia nodded, her blonde locks bobbing up and down rapidly. She stared at the glass perched upon the stool in the backyard. _Focus. You can do this. You can do this._ The sound of her mother's foot tapping against the concrete filled her mind, the irregular staccato invading her thoughts. _Don't think about her. Don't think about how important this is. Focus._

She tried to push her feelings of inadequacy to the back of her mind and attempted to focus solely on the glass. She pictured it flying across the yard and slamming into the gate, but the glass remained intimidatingly still. She swallowed hard, hoping for a strong swift breeze to give the illusion that her powers had finally surfaced. _Maybe mother would be proud of me then_.

Her mother huffed behind her. "I simply don't understand. This is your birthright, Cordelia."

How many times had she heard that? How many times had that phrase been used to belittle her? It was everything she aspired to be, was born to live up to, but lately it didn't seem as though she would ever fulfill her "destiny." Her mind had mulled over every possibility as to why she hadn't developed any powers. Maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe she had some kind of deformity or genetic affliction that was preventing her powers from surfacing. Maybe she was switched at birth. Or maybe she just didn't have any.

"I-I'm trying," she squinted slightly, biting her bottom lip in concentration.

Fiona rolled her eyes and took out her pack of cigarettes. Cordelia could hear her hitting the box and removing a cigarette. It was obvious that she was tired of the pathetic spectacle. The little girl wanted to cry, but she fought the urge. She would receive no pity for her tears.

"You know," Fiona muttered with the cigarette between her lips, "At five or six I could've hurled that glass all the way to Timbuktu if I'd wanted to." She flicked the lighter, taking a long drag and exhaling dramatically.

"I kept preparing myself for the day your magic would emerge. Every year I think, this, this is the year I need to worry about. But it never happens."

Cordelia dropped her shoulders, shuffling her feet uncomfortably.

"I thought surely by eight years old something would've surfaced by now," Fiona added flippantly.

In a desperate, last-ditch attempt she stretched her arm out a little farther, tears stinging in her eyes. _You can do this._

Fiona laughed, amused at the child's attempts to culminate some form of magic from her tiny body. "I guess it's never going to happen. I have nothing to worry about. Maybe you're not a witch after all."

She took one last pull before flicking the cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out with her designer black pumps, and turning back to the house, leaving Cordelia standing all alone.


	2. First Nightmare

She looked around her room, fear coursing through her veins. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. Her mind began concocting any scary thing a four year old could think of, and then some. Everything in her room seemed to be in motion, steadily creeping towards her tiny figure on the bed. Eyes lit every corner, grins spreading slowly across dark faces in suspenseful melancholy. She closed her eyes tightly to block the visions.

Cordelia could hear her mother's light laughter descending from her bedroom. _She's still awake._

Without a second thought, she flung the covers from her body, and hit the floor running.

She tried to open the door, but it was locked. She knocked softly, "Mommy?" She kept her voice low, noting the abrupt silence on the other side.

"You shouldn't be up, Delia. Go to your room," she called back flippantly.

Cordelia turned towards her doorway, the shadows still weaving tales of terror. She let out a small whine. "I don't wanna go back in there."

Fiona let out an aggravated sigh. Cordelia leaned against the door frame, relieved to hear rustling on the other side.

The door flung open suddenly, startling an already jumpy Cordelia, revealing Fiona in an oversized white button-up t-shirt.

"Well what is it?" Fiona exclaimed not even bothering to hide the exasperation or feign any sense of motherly concern.

"I-I saw...the shadows…," the tiny voice cried out small and shaking.

"There's nothing in your room, Cordelia. Go back to bed."

Her bottom lip quivered and she shook her head. "Can't I sleep with you?"

Movement inside the room caught the little girl's attention. Another figure was rising from her mother's bed. She craned her neck to see who it was.

Noting her intrigue, Fiona placed her hands on the little girl's shoulders, pushing her back out into the hallway to obscure her view. "Absolutely not. To your room. You're old enough to know there's nothing in there."

"I don't wanna!" Cordelia was reacting out of fear. Even at such a young age she knew better than to even think of disobeying her mother, but right now was different. Her mother didn't understand; she hadn't seen the figures that clearly had it out for her.

"Go!"

Cordelia dropped to the ground, tears streaming down her face. "I can't!"

"I think I'm gonna go, now Fee."

Cordelia looked up to see a shirtless man standing above her. She'd never seen him before.

"No, don't go, baby. I'm just about to take her back to her room," Fiona pleaded.

"Nah, don't worry about it. She's clearly upset and wants her mother. I'll come back another time." He eased his hands on either side of her face and kissed her gently.

"Keep my shirt. That's how you know I'll be back. It's my favorite one," he said with a wink.

Fiona looked angry, clearly not won over by his charm. "Fine."

She sidestepped to avoid touching him again as he eased out of the door. He took a few steps and then bent down to be eye-level with Cordelia. The little girl frowned at him, hiccupping and trying to catch her breath.

"Your mommy will keep you safe. Hang in there, princess."

Fiona rolled her eyes as he ruffled her hair and stood to leave.

She didn't bother to walk him out, only scooped up Cordelia and began walking to her room.

"You made a real show of yourself, didn't you?"

Cordelia, slightly gasping for breath from crying, lay her head in the crook of Fiona's neck. The familiar smell of alcohol and perfume allowed her a sense of familiarity; she felt sleepy all of a sudden and began to drift off.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, flailing and sobbing like an infant." Fiona was muttering in anger to herself more than anything as Cordelia drifted off to sleep in her arms. The child's head was just about to loll to the side when Fiona roughly deposited her into her own bed. Cordelia gasped at the sudden loss of security and stared at her mother, eyes wide with fear.

"You will be in so much more trouble if you even think of pulling another stunt like that when I have company over. Do you hear me?"

Cordelia began to cry again. Fiona rolled her eyes and turned to leave the room.

"No mommy, please don't leave."

Fiona cringed at the word, almost resenting her for using it at all.

"Do not get up," she countered as she shut the door and locked it.

At the click of the lock turning, Cordelia lost it. Her sobs were louder than anything Fiona had ever heard from the small child. She ignored them and retired to her room for the evening to lament on the lost fun and the pity of her responsibilities.

Cordelia, on the other hand, couldn't recover so quickly. The sound of her sobs seemed to drift into every darkened corner of the house. She was terrified and crying harder than she ever had in her entire life.

Fiona could hear the choked, gasping sobs plainly. She shoved her head underneath the pillow to drown out the sound, but it didn't seem to work. She rolled over, facing the pillow and caught a slight tinge of men's cologne. Her mind began dreaming of the fun she could have been having. Anger began to build within her. Her mind was still swimming from the alcohol she had previously consumed and she felt a little off balance. Her whole life felt that way. She shouldn't have to deal with a wailing child. This shouldn't be her life.

Without a second thought, Fiona stood and charged down the hallway to Cordelia's room. With a flick of her wrist, the door flung open. "What in God's name is wrong with you?" she demanded.

She didn't wait for the child to answer, crossing the room in three steps. Cordelia's tiny body was shaking in an effort to stop crying, each breath grabbing at her diaphragm and lurching her forward.

Fiona placed both hands on her daughter's shoulders and was instantly disgusted. Tears and mucus glistened from the child's red, swollen face. "What's wrong with you? Are you just gonna sit there like you can't talk? Why are you still crying?" Her voice seemed to lift into another octave as she screamed out her frustration.

Despite her efforts to stop, Cordelia began to cry again. Fiona's grip tightened and she shook her slightly. "Shut up, shut up!" she released her shoulders and flung her closet doors open. "There's nothing in your room, Cordelia. Nothing at all!" She began removing every article of clothing and toy and book from inside, flinging them about the room haphazardly.

Every flick of her wrist sent another one of Cordelia's beloved things hurtling from their home. Cordelia felt even more unsettled than before. She watched as her dolls and stuffed animals, anything that had ever given her a sense of peace and security, being slammed into the walls.

Fiona turned to Cordelia, the closet bare, and stuck her finger in her face. "I'm going back to my room. Don't let me hear you make a single peep, or you won't like what happens next."

She slammed the door, the noise sounding like a gun shot. The little girl placed her head in her pillow to quiet her sobs, the shadowy figures long forgotten. Never again would she let them scare her. They would be a welcome sight compared to the woman who gave her life.


	3. Fearful Beginnings

_A few of you have mentioned that you would like to see a more maternal side of Fiona. This, and several others that I've written show a softer side to Fiona. I know that Fiona loved Cordelia, she just had a different way of showing it. That's what I'm trying to shape, I'm just bouncing it back and forth around different events throughout Cordelia's childhood. There's a general idea here, just bear with me. :)  
Anyways, this one shows a very sweet, tender moment between Fiona and Cordelia. I really hope you all like it. I really enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!_

Fear, intense fear echoed throughout every nerve, reverberating within her body as if it were hollow. Her throat ached and her hands shook intensely. _I can't do this._

Fearless—a word that had described her throughout her whole existence, right up until nine months ago. She was scared when she read the results on the pregnancy test, she was uneasy when she went to her first doctor's visit, she was afraid that her body would never return to its former splendor as she stared at the stretched skin in the mirror; but this, this was something altogether different.

This was terror. It could be described in no other way. It prevailed over everything else, even the physical ache and exhaustion that had been her main focus thirty minutes ago. Now, the pain was gone and the sounds of her groaning had been replaced by the high-pitch cry of an infant. Her infant. _My daughter._

The words settled into her mind, trying to adjust to the title, to the syllabic rise and fall of such a life-altering phrase. Fiona clamped her eyes shut and took a deep breath in an attempt to quell her nerves and calm her racing heart. _I can do this. I'm not afraid of anything._

She opened her eyes and began searching for the tiny body responsible for the wailing. A nurse across the room was busy wrapping the baby, blocking her view. Her eyes caught sight of a tiny fist moving to the sound of the tiny shuddering cries. She listened for any irregular sign within the cry, but to her it seemed strong, as if she was announcing to the world, "Look at me. I've arrived and don't you forget it. Fiona smiled, holding back a laugh as the nurse began to turn around.

Another wave of terror hit, sucking the oxygen from her body and draining her face of color. The baby was placed in her arms, still making her grand entrance. _I don't know how to do this._

She was awestruck. _How can this be mine?_

She stared into the tiny face, committing every feature to memory. She ran her finger across the small, puffy cheek, down the bridge of her nose, letting her palm rest behind the infant's head of fine blonde hair. _This is mine._

"Shhh, it's ok. Everything's ok."

She rocked the infant in her arms, nestling her deeper into her chest. The wailing turned into a soft sniffle; a sense of pride kicked in. _I can do this. _This wouldn't be any different than any other obstacle she'd faced in life.

When she found out she was pregnant, she had thought about giving the baby up. She wasn't cut out to be a mother. There's no way she could be responsible for the life of another human being. But now, as she stared down into the sweet, cherubic face, she knew that she was making the right decision. Not because she was confident that she would make a perfect mother, but because she knew that she loved her enough to try.

In truth, Fiona hadn't given much thought to a name. The whole pregnancy had felt like a dream. It never felt like she would ever make it to this moment. But here it was. The moment she was able to hold this nameless, angelic creature in her arms, making it all real.

Bringing her into the world was her first task as a mother, but this was the first time that she would have to make a decision that impacted the life of her daughter. The responsibility swept over her instantly. She smiled as the set of perfect, tiny lips began to move in a sucking motion. Without thought, she placed her knuckle in the tiny mouth, laughing at how quickly she picked up the concept.

"What's your name, little doll? Hmm?" She rocked her back and forth, knowing it needed to be something soft and sweet. Nothing else would fit.

"Cordelia." The baby opened her eyes, a smile, or what seemed to be one, spreading across her face. Fiona's heart felt like it would burst. "That's it. That's your name."

She placed a kiss on Cordelia's head and nestled her farther into her body. "It's just you and me Cordelia," she half-whispered, liking the way the name sounded out loud. "You and me against the world. And we're gonna be ok."


	4. Kindergarten

_This one will most likely be finished in another chapter. I have more ideas about Cordelia going to school, too many to post all together. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!_

Cordelia stood in front of the mirror, beaming at her reflection. She was dressed in her new school uniform, preparing for her first day of kindergarten. She admired the navy blue jumper and white collared shirt underneath. _I look like a big girl._

Fiona walked in, noticing the little girl staring at herself in awe. She laughed, happy that her daughter was so excited to enter school. Cordelia was bright and very pretty. Fiona knew that she would do well.

"Let's fix your hair. We have to hurry," she added as an after-thought. They weren't normally up this early and hadn't had time to fall into any sort of routine yet.

"Ow!" Cordelia exclaimed as her mother ran a brush hurriedly through her hair.

"Sit still and it wouldn't hurt," Fiona snapped, growing impatient with the long blonde curls. "If we don't hurry then you'll be late for your first day of school. You don't want that, do you?"

She began gathering the mass of hair back into her hands to form a ponytail.

"I don't want a ponytail," she said quickly.

"Well then what do you want?" she cried out in frustration. They were already almost late.

"I want it down. I want everyone to see how long it is," she chimed in a sing-song way.

"It's all in your face and it'll be tangled together like a bird's nest by lunchtime. You'll look like a ragamuffin and no daughter of mine will be seen looking like someone off the street."

"What if you just pull this part back?" Cordelia negotiated. "I just don't want it all up."

"Fine." She pulled the strands of her hair back hurriedly, Cordelia beaming with excitement despite the pain in her scalp.

"C'mon we have to get going."

Cordelia hurried behind her mother. "What about breakfast?"

Fiona turned on her heel and headed for a nearby cabinet.

She yanked a box of sugary cereal from the cabinet and hastily poured some into a container. "You can eat this on the bus."

Cordelia rushed behind her mother, attempting to match the longer stride as she made her way to the door.

"Here. Put on your backpack."

Cordelia slipped her arms through the straps of the yellow backpack with daisies on it, one she had specifically picked out herself. "Do I look like a big girl?"

"Yes, you look very big. Now we have to go. C'mon." Fiona ushered towards the door exasperatingly.

The pair rushed outside, Cordelia skipping along the sidewalk the whole way.

"You'll walk out here every morning, alright? You need to stand right her at the end of the street and the bus will pick you up."

Cordelia nodded and began scanning the area for the bus. She was so excited to be able to go to school, to make friends.

The bus came into view and Fiona was relieved. She'd been worried that they'd missed it.

"It's getting close, mommy!"

"I see it, Delia. Be good at school. The bus will drop you off here in the afternoon."

Cordelia was barely listening as the bus lurched to a stop in front of them. The doors opened and Cordelia all but burst through them. She waved to her mother as the doors closed, Fiona waving back.

Her heart lurched at the sight of Cordelia. She wasn't an infant anymore, or a chubby toddler constantly underneath her feet. She was old enough to go to school. _What will I do without Cordelia for eight hours? _She wasn't sure, but she knew the break would be nice. She would think of something.

The bus doors shut. Cordelia turned to see what felt like a million strange faces looking at her. The driver was an older lady with a gruff voice who smelled heavily of cigarette smoke.

"Sit down, mon cherie," she said with a thick Cajun accent.

Cordelia froze. Where would she possibly sit? She didn't know any of these people. She quickly found an empty seat close to the front and plopped down in it.

Her and her mother normally moved around a lot, not really providing much chance for Cordelia to make any friends. She listened to a few conversations near her, curious as to what they were talking about. Two boys in front of her talked passionately about baseball and the two girls across the aisle were giggling and chattering over a book in one girl's hand.

Maybe she could make friends with them. She loved to read. Maybe another day though.

The school came into view and the bus stopped. The students began exiting and Cordelia followed suit. They made it through the glass double doors and then they all began to scatter, some going left, others straight, some into another set of double doors. Cordelia froze. She had no idea where to go.

Everyone else looked so big to her, no one that could be in her class. She decided to go right first, but everything looked the same. No matter how many hallways she turned down, she couldn't seem to find a place that looked like where she needed to be.

It wasn't long before the bell rang, startling Cordelia. The hallways emptied and she felt like crying. She just wanted to get back on the bus and go home.

She turned down another hallway and found what looked like a teacher standing outside of one of the doorways. Cordelia felt her staring at her. She wanted to ask for help but she didn't know what to say.

"Are you lost, sweetheart?" Cordelia nodded, her chin quivering slightly. She'd been so excited about her first day and she was already messing up. Her teacher would probably yell at her.

"What grade are you in?"

"Kindergarten," she answered timidly.

"Ok, why don't you come with me? I'll help you find your class."

Cordelia felt relieved. "Thank you."

"No trouble. It's not safe to wander the halls. What's your name?"

"Cordelia Goode."

"That's a beautiful name. We'll go to the office and find out what room you're in. I'm Ms. Davis. Have you ever been to your class before?"

Cordelia shook her head again. It was the first day, how could she have been here before?

"That's alright. We'll figure it out." They weaved in and out of a few hallways and eventually ended up at the glass doors where the bus had dropped her off.

"This is where I walked in when I got off the bus!"

"Oh good! Then I'll teach you how to get to class every day. That way you won't get lost again."

Upon discovering the name of her teacher, Mrs. Thibodeaux, the pair walked to her classroom. Cordelia felt confident that she could find her classroom, and felt better about her day. _Maybe this won't be so bad after all._


End file.
